


President Snow

by Anonymous



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Don't Like Don't Read, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Jon is the President of Westeros, Journalist Dany, Margaery is the First lady, Oral Office, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Politics, Smut, The King in The North, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:14:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27584600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Of course, an interview with the President who also happens to be an ex-boyfriend will go anything but normal.
Relationships: Daenerys Targaryen/Margaery Tyrell, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen/Margaery Tyrell, Jon Snow/Margaery Tyrell
Comments: 6
Kudos: 117
Collections: Anonymous





	President Snow

An interview with the President of Westeros.

An exclusive interview with the President of Westeros.

Any reporter with a functioning brain would have been excited – no, ecstatic – at the prospect. The very thought of the possibilities, the opportunities that could grow from such a catch… it was just too much.

Yet Daenerys Targaryen found herself overtaken by anxiety, apprehension… even the tiniest bit of anger.

President Snow had requested her specifically. That was the main thorn in her side. He didn't want anyone from the Winterfell Ravens, or any paper from his home city. No, he wanted Dany of the King's Landing Times. After all these years, why did the man see fit to torture her so?

It was a trap. It had to be. Some weird, billionaire, Christian Grey-level mind game he wanted to play… except instead of a CEO, he was the President.

But Dany went along with it anyway, the opportunistic woman she was. Trap or not, it was the scoop of a lifetime. What Commander in Chief gave out exclusive interviews – aside from the press meetings?

So, fine, Jon Snow had his fun. The King's Landing Times had their scoop.

They spoke in the Red Keep – The Red Keep! – sitting across from each other on white leather sofas. Four men in suits stood vigilant along the walls, tall, broad-shouldered, almost no necks to speak of, as the Secret Service was like to be.

Snow was immaculately dressed – that was no surprise to Dany. No wrinkles, no stains, or anything. Black fabric - Dany wouldn't even try to guess what the suit was made from – hugged his frame perfectly, as did the white dress shirt. The tie was a tie. Hair neatly trimmed and combed, possibly touched up with conditioner, yet undeniably flawless. He's now wearing glasses, probably to look wiser and older than his forty years.

The President had dressed to kill.

So had Dany.

Black dress, silk, split up leg just enough to tease the delicious prize hidden away. Strapless, seemingly held up by faith alone. No bra, for that would ruin the effect. Platinum blonde hair clipped short, but still long enough to frame her face.

Dany knew she looked good for her age. One of the reasons why her ex-husband was insecure and divorced her.

Even behind the sunglasses, the Secret Service Agents' wandering eyes were quite obvious. But Jon Snow was infuriating. Not one slip up for the entire interview, not a single perverted glance or leer. Hell, he didn't even try to ogle her tits! That was what irked Dany the most. The audacity of ignoring her – the silent messages, that is. The President paid attention to her prying questions just fine.

The interview went smoothly – that was one way of putting it – and Dany's notebook was filled with scribbles and scribbles of priceless information, straight from the mouth of the President himself. Words that would be both praised and ripped apart the moment they hit the streets. Even a President like Jon Snow had enemies.

Dany had been mere seconds from walking out the door and moving on with her life when Snow called her back. He wanted her to stay, have a drink, and catch up like old friends were ought to do.

Old friends. Dany had frowned at that, but only for a moment.

Against her better judgment, the intrepid reporter chose to indulge the man's request. They moved the bedroom. Two agents followed, standing by the door. Dany and Jon quickly found it easy to ignore them.

Wine for her. Scotch for him. Not that he even offered her scotch. Dany pondered whether she should be offended by that or if she was just looking for something to be angry about. The wine was good. Very good. Sweet tingling on her tongue, leaving her brain with a pleasant buzz and her lower belly a flutter as if full of butterflies.

"I heard about your marriage, Miss Targaryen. I'm sorry that it didn't work out."

She glared at him, "It's for the best, Mr. President."

"You've moved up in the world." He complimented her, leaning back into his armchair. He had since lost the coat and tie, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. "From Winterfell to King's Landing, that's a pretty big leap."

Dany put on her best smile, "I could say the same about you, Mister President. From Winterfell to the Red Keep. This must be a whole different world."

Snow grinned, taking a sip of his drink. "It's not so different, actually. Though I'm not really allowed to sneak out at night anymore… not without one of them glued to my hip, anyway." He gestured to the two men standing guard by the door.

"Just doing our job, Mr. President," Replied the agent with grey hair.

If I had to look after Snow's sorry ass every day, I might feel the same.

"And you do damn good work, Ser Barristan," Snow shot back with his trademark grin. "…Even if you're a bit earnest."

Ser Barristan seemed to force back a biting retort when a woman entered through another door. She strode into the bedroom with the grace and elegance of a panther, long toned legs silently carrying her into the President's lap.

Brazen, even for the First Lady.

Margaery Snow draped herself over her husband, unabashed, unashamed, and uncaring that her hanging off his thick arm. The dress she was wearing probably costs more than Dany's annual salary.

"I hope you are done interrogating my husband of mine, Miss Targaryen." The First Lady said looking at Dany with her brown eyes.

Dany had seen photos of Margaery Tyrell – Snow, now – when the tabloids picked up on then-Senator Snow's girlfriend. Margaery Tyrell was everything that Jon had avoided during college. Sorority girl from a rich powerful family. It shocked Dany when she saw the picture of both of them together but realized that the match was ideal. Jon needed someone to fund his campaign and Tyrells were the perfect people to do that.

"My lovely wife returns!" Snow smiled, pulling the slender woman into his arms. "And here I thought you got lost in the closet."

Dany's breath caught in her throat when she saw the way Margaery's breasts flattened and billowed to the sides as she pressed against her husband's frame.

Margaery kissed Jon on the cheek, perhaps a second longer than needed. Bright red lips caressing his skin, undoubtedly tickled by his light stubble. She pulled away, smiling wickedly.

"A dangerous venture made all for you, dear husband. God forbid a woman wants to look good for her man."

The corner of Dany's mouth twitched. 'Look good for my man'? What is this, the Stepford Wives? She can't be for real….

Snow had that look in his eyes, then. Dany crossed her legs, suddenly very conscious of her attire. She came to an interview dressed like she was ready to give someone the night of their life. Maybe, Jon did pick up on her silent signals…

"Ser Barristan, Ser Arthur, you two are dismissed. I would like some privacy," He ordered them. His eyes never left his wife's, one of his hands venturing dangerously close to the hem of her short dress.

"But Mister President, protocol-."

"Protocol or not, I highly doubt Miss Targaryen intends to hurt me. Not that she could..." Snow shot her an insufferable smirk, the same way he used to do. Dany crossed her arms, looking unimpressed.

With a nod, the two agents exited the bedroom, closing the door behind them.

The President, his wife, and his ex.

Certainly not a volatile combination. Not at all.

Dany clicked her tongue. "You don't think I could hurt you? I could be dangerous, you don't even know."

Snow laughed, deep and heartily. "Well, Dany, I'm not so sure what kind of weapons you could be hiding in that dress of yours, though…"

Dany gave him an indignant look. Great. Now he decides to ogle. Perfect.

"That dress isn't designed to hide anything, Jon." Purred Margaery, practically snuggling into the crook of his arm – the same one he had wrapped around her like a caveman. With the guards gone, he wasn't even trying to hide his groping of her ass.

"Neither is yours." He growled.

"That's why I put it on, honey."

The room had gotten warmer – or Dany had gotten warmer. Her dress didn't reveal nearly as much as Margaery's, but it wasn't like she was wearing a burqa. And her lacey underwear was increasingly becoming a poor idea.

"Why did you bring me here, Jon?" Dany blurted out, drawing two pairs of eyes towards her. Oh, that was not smart. They looked at her like a piece of meat. Dany hadn't intended on getting fucked tonight – Well, maybe she did, but this wasn't part of the plan.

"A man can't help an old friend get an exclusive with the President of Westeros?" He inquired, his voice oh so innocent, the same voice he used back when he talked his way out of punishment for sneaking out in the middle of the night to canoodle with Dany.

Dany rose from her seat, standing tall – as tall as her heels would allow her to be – over the power couple. Her eyes bore accusingly into Jon, the man not flinching. The bastard. She crossed her arms, chin raised, hip cocked to the side, just the tiniest bit sexual just as the little 'fuck you' sprinkled on top. She was angry, indignant, irritated.

…Vexed.

"People who do what you and I did don't go back to being 'friends', not a chance in hell. So, I'll ask again: why did you give me the scoop, Jon? Why not Valerie Beaumont, God knows you're cozy with her, or even Sansa Stark?" She scowled at him, voice dripping with venom. "What, did you have the King's Landing Times send me down here so you could parade your new wife in front of me like some petty, juvenile fantasy thing? Cuz you're out of luck, mister!"

Dany would normally quit while she was ahead. Storm out of the room and leave the man feeling like shit. But this was Jon Snow. This was the fucking President. She was on a roll and god helps anyone who would dare interrupt her rant.

"I haven't thought of you for years, you know that? I'm on the fast track, buddy, the no-speed-limit highway of my career. You think I needed your little handout, Snow? I was golden without you! Jerk! Don't think for a second that I wasted even a moment dwelling on 'what could have been' with the goddamn King in the North! I bet you would love that, wouldn't you? Pig! 'Oh, Mister Snow! I can't possibly go another day without you in my life!' Give me a fucking break. Oh, and another thing…"

Jon smirked as he watched Dany talk herself into a corner. He loved it when she got like this. All pissy and foot-stomping, pouting at you with those cute, angry eyes. He doubted she knew that he would needle her on purpose, just to get a rise out of her. It always paid off in the end. Dany Targaryen fucked best when angry.

"She really doesn't shut up, does she?" Margaery whispered into his ear.

Jon gave her ass a soft squeeze, smirking as her body responded with the tiniest of squirms.

"There is one way to calm her down," He told his wife. He gave her a meaningful look.

It registered quickly in Margaery's mind. She rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'm sure. Perv."

Dany was still ranting, pacing back and forth in front of them, her neatly done hair becoming messier, wilder, sexier… She would occasionally send an impolite name Jon's way, but as President, he was used to it.

Margaery looked from the reporter to her husband, biting her cherry red lips. With a sigh, the First Lady untangled herself from the President's arms. Graceful, she slinked over to the blonde, the hem of her little black dress riding up just enough for Jon to get a look at the bottom slopes of her well-formed rear.

Dany turned, clearly not expecting Margaery to be so close – and neither did she expect Jon's wife to get even closer. Stunned into silence, Miss Targaryen did nothing as Margaery Snow pulled her into a kiss. A soft, feminine embrace at first, quickly growing deeper and sensuous. One hand wandered down to cup Dany's generous bosom – almost as generous as Margaery's – through the fabric of her dress. Margaery squeezed, Dany moaned. Margaery swallowed the wondrous sound, ravaging the other woman's mouth with her tongue.

Jon sat, enjoying the display of feminine eroticism. Dany had always been open, willing to explore. At least, that's how she had been with him. Jon didn't know how she was with other boyfriends and husband.

"More tongue," Jon ordered.

The women obeyed. As Jon expected.

Dany pulled Margaery closer, whimpering as the brunette's hands traveled brazenly. Margaery fingers snaked up the blonde's leg, reaching around, under the black silk to grab at her ass. Dany pulled away quickly when Margaery squeezed, dainty fingers were so close to there… Margaery's mouth attacked her neck without a moment's hesitation, drawing a gasping moan from Dany's throat.

Then their lips met again, ravenous and…wet.

Jon leaned back into his armchair, his hardened member straining against the crotch of his pants. His wife and his ex. Volatile, indeed.

Dany pulled away, breathless, lipstick smeared. "W-what is this?"

"That was me Frenching you," Margaery cooed, fingers playing at the zipper along Targaryen's back. "Oh, don't look so surprised, sweetie. Jon told me all the nasty things you two did way back when. Sucking face with me should be nothing to you, especially after Arienne Martell and her cousins."

Dany shot Jon a scowl, red-faced – from embarrassment, not arousal. "You told her about that!?"

Jon shrugged, "I don't keep secrets from my dear wife."

"So… what? You think you're going to get a threesome just like that?" Dany spat at him while Margaery sucked and bit at her neck. "You think because you gave me an exclusive interview, I'm just going to get down on my knees like before?"

"No," He said, undoing his belt. "I think you're going to get down on your knees because you've wanted to for years. You haven't forgotten me, Dany, and I haven't forgotten you. And my lovely wife? She's curious."

Daenerys Targaryen of the King's Landing Times lowered herself onto her knees, Margaery came with her, lips grazing her ear. "I want to see the infamous Daenerys Targaryen in action," She purred.

"Infamous?" Dany managed to shoot Jon a pointed look as she pulled his pants down. He smiled down at her as his hard cock sprung free. The bulbous head nearly slapped her across the face.

"Jon told me every dirty little secret, honey…" Margaery groped her from behind, sliding her dress down to expose her breasts. Her hands were warm, her fingers eager to knead and squeeze. Dany's nipples grew hard, her sex damp. "Like all the ways you used those pretty lips of yours."

Dany reached to take Jon, dainty fingers wrapping around the thick shaft. Thick and veiny, hard as a rock – as cliché as that sounded. His balls, impressively large and covered with a dark fuzz, hung proudly beneath his manhood. Dany's mouth watered. She stroked him, slowly pumping – inspecting him, more like.

The memories came back in a flood, the ones she put away into a vault deep in the back of her mind: those precious, filthy few years she had with Jon Snow. Sucking him, fucking him, riding him… those nights when he took control, bending her over some chair and having his way, taking every hole as they belonged to him because oh, God they totally did. She remembered him treating her like some cheap street whore and that she loved every depraved moment of it, loved every inch of his big, fucking, wildling dick shoved down her throat.

And now here she was, in the President's bedroom, jerking off his big, fat cock. Ethical reporter of the King's Landing Times, Daenerys Targaryen. About to slobber all over Jon Snow's big fucking cock.

Well… What woman doesn't want to fuck a handsome President?

She took Jon in her mouth. She teased him first, taking it slow, swirling her tongue around the swollen, throbbing head, massaging the frenulum until she heard him groan. God, she loved the sound of his voice, so deep, rumbling in his chest.

Dany pressed on, taking more of him into her mouth, lips caressing his length as he slid deeper, deeper… Her tongue worked, swirling, massaging, lapping, flicking against the dick, so much dick in her mouth… She bobbed her head, lathering the member in saliva, her spit, making it nice and slick, just like she used to do. She felt Jon's hand on the back of her head, his fingers running through her hair. She had missed this, missed choking on his big, cock!

"She's very eager, isn't she?" Dany heard Margaery say, the other woman sounding more amused than jealous.

"Always happy to please, aren't you Dany?" Jon rumbled.

Dany hummed the affirmative, diving deeper, taking more, more of that long fucking dick. She was only halfway, her fingers squeezing his bare thighs, her eyes already watering. She needed to take him all, get every inch of Jon down her slutty throat. She needed to teach him to forget about her.

"Look at her go," Margaery commented, clearly impressed by the tone of her voice. "Now we know how she got through college."

Dany managed to flip the First Lady off without deviating from her messy task. She pulled back with a gasp, letting Jon slip from her mouth. He was coated, slick with saliva, and throbbing. He was nowhere close to cumming yet, she knew.

Dany knew the moment she walked into the Red Keep she would need to go to work. On her knees, her hair a mess, her lipstick ruined, the President's cock stood like a pillar of flesh, obscene, disgusting, enticing, and delicious. It throbbed against the cool air and Jon grunted at the sudden stop.

The cock was taunting her. Jon was taunting her.

Dany was going to suck him bone dry.

Again, she dived down, his member sliding into her gullet with ease. She reached the halfway point, then pushed forward, taking more, more…. Jon's grip on her hair tightened, the enormous man groaning beneath her. Music to her ears.

"How does she feel, Jon?" Margaery asked, breathless. She might have been fingering herself, getting off on watching another woman suck off her man. Slut.

"As good as I remember," Jon grunted. Dany could feel how tense he was, her fingers squeezing his hard, muscled thighs.

I'll show you good, you fucking bastard. I'll show you what you've been missing out on all these years, dumping me for some fucking Essosi girl.

Dany worked harder, sucking Jon off like it was her fucking job.

"Gods, Dany…"

He sounded affectionate, loving… Dany hummed happily at that. She was going to swallow every drop of his cum….

Onward she pushed, enduring the sensation of thick, white cock invading her poor mouth. She shuddered, gurgled around him, feeling Jon twitch in her throat.

Almost, almost….

Her nose hit his waist, pubic hair tickling her. She had taken all of him, every inch of Jon's manhood shoved down her throat. She choked on him, almost losing her position, but still, she held on.

She could taste him, all thick meat.

Delicious.

"She took it all..." She could faintly hear Mrs. Snow breathe. "Amazing."

If Dany could smile, she would have.

Try to get your pretty little wife to do something like this for you, Jonny...

Jon was all but forcing himself not to cum. Dany's mouth was a force of nature. One of only two women he knew could take every inch of him without a problem.

This woman could stop wars with her tongue…

He relished the sensation of Dany's throat convulsing around him, her lips caressing the base of his cock. The sight of her, on her knees, mascara running down her cheeks, beautiful eyes staring up at him as if his dick was the greatest gift in the world.

"Atta girl, Dany," He praised, chuckling despite himself. "Just like college. You haven't lost a step."

"Good God!" His wife looked aghast, disgusted, intrigued, and tempted all at the same time. "Can she even breathe?"

Dany shuddered, swallowing his cock, tongue massaging the underside of the shaft.

"This… This is an art form, Margaery." Jon told her, gently petting his ex. "Art requires sacrifice to be truly great. Fuck, that's it… take all of it, sweetheart…."

Dany slurped away, strings of saliva connecting his cock to her lips. The reporter rasped, sucking in air like it was Jon's manhood. She licked the head for good measure, smiling.

"Fuck… You're bigger than I remember."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Miss Targaryen." He smirked down at her. He had lost the dress shirt, now completely nude save for his black socks. Turning to Margaery, "Feel free to get in on the action, wife. Perform some wifely duties."

Mrs. Snow joined Miss Targaryen on the floor, two gorgeous faces staring up at him. His wife gave him a pout before lowering her mouth to his balls. Lips and tongue working. Jon was in heaven, or the closest he would ever get to it.

"You consider sucking his balls to be 'wifely duties'?" Dany asked.

Margaery pulled away, "You don't?"

Jon couldn't help but laugh.

"Fuck my tits! Fuck 'em, Jon!"

Jon did as he was told, thrusting hard and fast between two soft globes of flesh. Dany pressed them together around him, the head of his cock poking up between them to stroke her chin, smacking against her lips.

"Yes, just like that! Just like in college! These are your tits, Jon! They belong to you! Fuck them!"

"Aren't you colorful?" Margaery tilted her head to the side, one brow raised. It was then that the stories Jon told her about Miss Targaryen became a lot less outlandish and more… awe-inspiring. It was clear now, clear as crystal.

No wonder she was one of his favorites.

Dany released him from her breasts, letting them fall back to their original positions. They were almost hypnotic by themselves, her tits, jiggling and swaying, hard nipples begging to be sucked and bitten. She took his cock in her hands, pumping him vigorously – Jon had still yet to cum.

"I'm your whore, Jon. Any way you want, any time!" Dany gave him an almost crazed smile. "Cum all over me, Mister President!"

"Tempting, but not part of the plan," Margaery heard her husband announce. "One the bed, Miss Targaryen, on your hands and knees."

Oh.

Margaery pulled her fingers free from her dripping pussy. Licking them clean, she sauntered over to the closet.

"This should be good," She called back to the sweaty couple. "Just let me get the camera."

  
  


* * *

  
  


He was fucking her. Nice and hard and deep. So fucking deep. He stretched her, filled her pussy up, and then some. And then he fucked her, nonstop relentless pounding until she was screaming into the bedsheets.

Dany loved every fucking moment of it.

"MMM, YES! FUCK ME!"

It had been years since she had gotten railed so thoroughly, having a big, fat dick pounding deep inside her dripping pussy. No lay had been half as good as Jon. This was like Christmas and her birthday and getting a raise all rolled into one, his long cock striking deep with every thrust.

She gripped the bedsheets, fingernails digging into the expensive fabric. Her toes curled, sweat dripping from her forehead. She could hear Jon grunted behind her, thrusting, sending every nerve firing off from her cunt to everywhere else.

"I love how fucking tight you are, Daenerys." She loved it when he used her full first name. That meant he was happy. "Did you ever find somebody as big as me?"

She shuddered as she felt him slide into the hilt and hold there. "N-No, never. My tight pussy was made for your big. Fucking. Cock!"

"I don't think she's lying, Jonny." Margaery, Dany could feel her presence. She was filming them, Dany knew.

"Call me 'Jonny' again and your ass is next, wife." President half-joked.

"Jonny, Jonny, Jonny…"

"Your ass is mine tonight, Margaery," Jon growled. Dany was afraid she might cum right then.

"Looking forward to it, husband. Finish her off first and I'll make it extra special for you."

"Yes, dear."

His rough hands grabbed Dany's ass, squeezing the soft, red flesh. He picked up the pace, fucking, rutting like a damned animal. He drove himself deep with every thrust and Dany felt the fires within roar into a wild flame. Hot. So fucking hot.

She was getting fucked just like she dreamed about, her cunt taking his cock greedily, her clit inflamed, on fire. She didn't need to touch it, not with Jon. His cock could make her cum on its own.

"OH, FUCK! SHIT! FUCK! FUCK!"

Eruption. Pompeii tier. A fire in her belly, fireworks, spreading from her cunt to every part of her body, tingling. Dany Targaryen shrieked into the bed, her cunt dripping, gushing as she came on Jon's powerful cock. He came, too, shooting into her. A flood of his hot, thick cum, a scalding tidal wave striking her very core. Dany shuddered as he filled her, all the way to the fucking brim.

God, Jon…

"Wow…" She could faintly hear Margaery. "I think you broke her."

Jon chuckled. The sound of him slipping from her abused, thoroughly wrecked pussy was wet, sloppy, obscene, disgusting… and it turned her on like nothing else in the world. Dany Targaryen slumped against the bed, her cunt destroyed and full of virile cum.

Totally spent, Dany could do little aside from listening..

"Nah, she'll be fine." Jon waved off his wife's concerns. "I can't say the same for your tight little ass, though."

"Promises promises…."

Despite herself, Dany laughed.

  
  
  



End file.
